The Last Centurion (2000 Years)
by MakingShortStoriesLong
Summary: In an alternate timeline, the Ancient Roman Empire was adrift in stories about Centurion Roranicus. The Brave Centurion. The Lonely Centurion. The Last Centurion. Stories were told and forgotten in time, and when time was rewritten, they never happened at all. Except for one man, and he isn't telling. So: What did Rory Williams get up to in all that time?


It took a few years for the real Romans to arrive. It must have been about twenty, by Rory's calculations: stone walls covered in tally marks meant at least seven years, and an additional eight winters had passed since the walls filled - or was it nine?

After the Doctor left, Rory had sat at the base of the Pandorica for several days without moving. He was left numb by the commitment he had made and the time that stretched before him, but he knew he would do it again in an instant. He went through long phases of silence, interrupted by conversations with Amy. They were monologues, really, but he could imagine her responses and sometimes spoke those as well, so it almost felt like she was conversing with him. He could only hope that somehow, Amy heard him from inside the Pandorica, and his speeches were making it into her dreams.

His Amy-imitation would never compare to the real thing.

He kept track of the days, hacking marks into the stone walls around him when the sun rose each morning. The sunlight lit the cavern under Stonehenge faintly through the open entrance, and after the first week or so of sitting on guard, talking to himself and his imprisoned fiancée, he started wandering upstairs every morning to watch the sun rise. He also started cleaning up the cavern - he had to do something. He wound up with a large pile of Cyberparts, and wished he had the Doctor's mop to make dusting easier.

Slowly, he fell into a kind of routine. He stood guard all night when he knew was too dark to see anyone approaching the Pandorica, talking to himself and to Amy, his sword drawn. In the morning he watched the sun rise, before continuing his 'home improvement' projects. He didn't need food or sleep, so there was nothing useful he really needed to do or make, but he kept the cavern clean and made some interesting things out of cyberparts, with varying degrees of success. And whenever he heard a noise, he dropped his work and drew his sword, standing guard before the Pandorica.

At some point, the walls were filled, and Rory gave up counting the days. He stopped worrying too much about the seasons or the passing time, and just let it pass him by. So when something finally happened, he couldn't tell if he'd been there ten years or twenty.

One morning, Rory saw from the top of the stairs, where there had been nothing the morning before, a camp of tents and banners in Roman purple. It was too far off to make out many details, but he could faintly see legionnaires milling about the encampment. It wouldn't be long before he had a visit.

He wasn't able to close off the chamber; he wasn't sure he would have if he could. Locking oneself away from the world into total darkness is never appealing. But he did know from his time in the fake Roman army and, also, from history class years ago - wasn't Amy's report something about "Invasion of the Hot Italians"? - that Rome was all about conquest and exploration. They would come looking. He just had to stop them from looking further than the surface.

He retreated into the cavern for the next few days to not draw attention to himself. But one afternoon, as he paced in front of the Pandorica, reviewing his medical studies in his head, he heard two sets of footsteps cautiously descending the stairway. He drew his sword and assumed his position in front of the Pandorica.

The two men who stepped into the cavern were Romans, dressed in armor and wielding swords. They quickly took in Rory's purple cloak and centurion's badge, and suddenly snapped into salutes and nearly shouted, "_Ave_, Centurion."

Rory was briefly taken aback. He'd almost forgotten he was dressed as a ranking Roman officer. He nodded to the two of them. "Ave," he said, as gravely as he could.

The two legionnaires released their salutes. The on the right, who was slightly taller and had black hair cut very short, addressed Rory. "Centurion, we are Legionnaires Celsus and Avilius of the Sixth Victorious Legion, encamped close by here on a mission to expand the Holy Roman Empire to these isles. What legion are you of and - " he looked sideways at his partner, who nodded slightly in encouragement - "how did you come to be here?"

"Um, well," Rory hesitated, "I'm not currently of any legion. It's, a bit of a long story, actually."

The shorter, blond soldier spoke up. "What is this you are guarding?"

"I'm not sure I can explain," Rory began. Then he remembered something else about the Romans - their religion. "I'm here on behalf of - of the gods. Jupiter himself has commanded me to guard this. He didn't really explain, actually. I'm just, well, fulfilling my duty as a centurion of the legions of Rome."

The taller soldier looked awed. The blond looked skeptical. "We'll have to inform the Centurion Primus that you are here. He may wish to come and speak to you. Can you come with us to our camp?"

The taller man swatted the blond. "He's on guard duty for the _gods,_ man. You can't ask him to step away from that!" The blond soldier scowled.

"No, I can't leave," Rory told them. "But I will be happy to speak with your Head Centurion."

The two soldiers nodded and started to turn away, but the shorter man turned back. "What was your name?"

"Oh, uh - Centurion Roranicus."

"Nice to meet you, Centurion. We will return." He followed his comrade up the stairs, and the two of them vanished from Rory's sight. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now he would just have to work on a story for the leader of their cohort. He chuckled to himself. "Roranicus. Did you hear that Amy? Rory, short for Roranicus. _Centurion _Roranicus..."

It was the first moment of excitement Rory had had in a long time. Ever the realist and slightly the pessimist, Rory wondered if it might have been better to stay bored for two thousand years. He had to keep any nosy Romans from opening up this box - but first, he had to have a good story for the real Roman Centurion that would keep him alive and with Amy.

Rory leaned his head against the Pandorica. "Amy," he breathed, "I miss you."


End file.
